Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Starting with the Korean War, returning home to take charge

The sky outside the window was overcast, and the curtains were half drawn.

He Yuzhu pushed open the conference room door, and a wave of smoke wafted out, mixed with the aroma of old wood and hot tea. Seven or eight people sat on either side of the long table, some looking down at documents, others staring at the map on the wall. Commander Chen stood in front of the map, his pointer pointing to the Vietnamese coastline, half-burnt with cigarette ash, untouched.

"sit."

He Yuzhu sat down on a chair near the side. The chair was made of wood, hard and cold, and creaked when he sat on it. A senior air force colonel next to him glanced up at him, then looked down again, his hands rustling as he flipped through the documents in his hands.

Commander Chen put down his pointer and turned around. He didn't look at anyone, but at the window. The windowpane was covered with a layer of fog, and he couldn't see anything outside.

"It happened the day before yesterday. Two F-4s took off from Da Nang, flew along the coastline to Thanh Hoa, dropped bombs, and then turned around and left."

He paused for a moment.

"By the time our radar detected them, they were already home."

No one spoke in the meeting room. The radiators hissed, as if something inside the pipes was sighing.

The Air Force colonel put down the documents in his hand and spoke.

"It's not that the radar is bad. It's that they used electronic jamming. As soon as our radar is turned on, the screen is full of static."

He paused.

"There were only four minutes between the appearance of the jamming signal and the plane dropping its bombs."

Commander Chen nodded and finally turned his head. He glanced at He Yuzhu.

"Xiao He, can you modify that radar?"

He Yuzhu didn't answer immediately. He thought for a moment.

"Yes, but it will take time."

"how long?"

"Six months."

Commander Chen didn't speak. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, pressing it down hard until the butt flattened.

"Three months."

He Yuzhu didn't reply. He stared at the map, at the spots along the coastline marked by the pointer. Da Nang, Thanh Hoa—he'd heard those names before, in telegrams, in intelligence reports.

"I'll go back and take a look."

Commander Chen nodded and said nothing more.

The archives are located on the second basement level.

Three keys were inserted into the lock and turned simultaneously, opening the iron door. He Yuzhu walked to the cabinet labeled "Military Industry · Radar," opened it, and took out two documents: one titled "Microwave Radar Improvement Scheme," and the other "Fundamentals of Phased Array Radar."

He flipped through it, then closed it again.

Both of these require precision components. Domestic factories can't manufacture them.

Ma Yuejin stood at the door, leaning against the doorframe. He was wearing his faded work clothes, the cuffs were frayed, and there was still some machine oil on his hands.

"Dean, where's it stuck?"

He Yuzhu put the documents back.

"Components. Microwave components. Not available domestically."

Ma Yuejin walked in and stood next to him.

"Which factory can manufacture it?"

He Yuzhu thought for a moment.

"There's an electronics factory in Nanjing that did something similar. But their equipment was subpar, and the precision was far inferior."

Ma Yuejin didn't say anything. He stood there, staring at the row of metal cabinets for several seconds.

"I'll go."

He Yuzhu turned his head.

"you go?"

Ma Yuejin nodded.

"Dean, I can't do those high-skill things. But I can do errands."

He paused, then lowered his voice.

"I can't always stand behind you."

He Yuzhu looked at him. His face was thinner and darker, with prominent cheekbones, but his eyes were bright.

"That factory is in Nanjing, and the conditions are poor."

"Know."

"The equipment is old, the factory buildings are dilapidated, and there aren't even dormitories."

"Know."

"You might have to sleep in the workshop for a month."

Ma Yuejin smiled, but it wasn't a bright, open smile; it was just a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"As long as it's better than North Korea."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything more.

It was drizzling in Beijing the day Ma Yuejin left.

He Yuzhu stood at the entrance of the research institute, watching the jeep drive away. The headlights cast two yellowish glows in the rain, and it disappeared around the alleyway.

Lin Jianguo stood to the side, his hands in his pockets.

"Dean, is he capable?"

He Yuzhu did not answer.

The first week, Ma Yuejin called, his voice was bright.

"Dean, the equipment is too old and needs to be upgraded."

The second week, the phone call came late, and the voice was hoarse.

"The component is made, but the precision is insufficient. It's a bit off."

There was no phone call for the third week. He Yuzhu called back, and a woman answered, saying that Team Leader Ma was in the workshop and hadn't come out for three days.

"Has he eaten?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

"I brought it to him, but he just left it aside and didn't eat it even though it got cold."

The phone rang at three in the morning during the fifth week.

He Yuzhu answered the phone, but there was no sound on the other end, only panting.

"A leap forward?"

There was another two seconds of silence on the other end. Then a hoarse voice came through, like sandpaper rubbing against sheet metal.

"Dean, it's done."

Just those three words.

He Yuzhu held the microphone, without urging him.

After a long time, a sniffling sound came from the other end of the line, very soft, as if afraid of being heard.

"The component has been manufactured. The precision is even higher than required."

"You cried?"

There was another moment of silence on the other end.

"No. It's too dusty in the workshop."

He Yuzhu didn't expose him.

"When are you coming back?"

Ma Yuejin thought about it.

"Tomorrow, I want to eat the braised pork from the cafeteria."

He Yuzhu smiled.

"I'll save it for you."

When the components arrived in Beijing, He Yuzhu personally went to the train station to pick them up.

The wooden crate was nailed shut securely, with the words "Precision Instrument, Handle with Care" written on it. He opened it, and inside were neatly stacked microwave components, silvery-white, gleaming under the light.

Commander Chen arrived on the day of the installation and testing.

When the radar is powered on, the screen is completely clean. The operator rotates the antenna, and several bright spots appear, clearly visible.

"F-4. Two aircraft, altitude 8,000 meters, speed Mach 0.8."

Commander Chen stared at the screen for several seconds. Then he turned around, walked to He Yuzhu, reached out his hand, then withdrew it, and finally patted him on the shoulder.

"it is good."

Just one word.

The military train departed from Beijing on the third day.

He Yuzhu stood on the platform, watching the wooden crates being hoisted onto the train carriages. The escort was a young soldier, in his early twenties, with a round face, quiet, and efficient. He secured the last crate, jumped down, and saluted He Yuzhu.

"I guarantee delivery, no matter where the factory is located."

He Yuzhu returned the greeting.

"Be careful on the road."

The train started moving, getting farther and farther away, until it became a dot and disappeared at the end of the tracks.

The phone rang in the middle of the night.

He Yuzhu answered the phone. Old Sun's voice was lower than usual, as if he was suppressing something.

"Old He, the military train has been sabotaged in Zhengzhou."

He Yuzhu pressed his hand on the table.

"Where are the components?"

"The components are fine. But two of the soldiers escorting the vehicle were injured."

He heard himself ask.

Is it heavy?

Old Sun was silent for two seconds.

"One person has a broken leg. Another was stabbed and is still in critical condition."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. His hand, holding the microphone, began to tremble. Not from fear, but something else.

He remembered the round-faced soldier who saluted with his hand raised high and said, "I guarantee it will be delivered."

"Has the person been caught?"

Old Sun said.

"We caught one. A spy. He confessed he was from the Manchurian side."

He Yuzhu stood there for a long time.

"That butler?"

Old Sun did not answer.

The call ended. He stood there, listening to the busy tone on the receiver. The sound echoed in the empty office like a heartbeat.

The door was pushed open. Old Sun walked in, clutching a piece of paper in his hand; the paper was crumpled, and the edges were rolled up.

"That spy confessed."

He Yuzhu took the paper.

There was only one line of text on the paper, written with a fountain pen, the handwriting crooked and shaky, as if the hand was trembling.

"The housekeeper told me to tell you that this is just the beginning."

He Yuzhu turned the paper over; the back was blank. He turned it back again and stared at the line of text for a long time.

Outside the window, the moon peeked out from behind the clouds, illuminating the courtyard in a pale light. Standing in the courtyard was Yang Xiaobing. The bandages on his arm were still in place, but he stood ramrod straight. He nodded to He Yuzhu, then turned and walked into the darkness.

He Yuzhu stood by the window, motionless.

He was still clutching the paper in his hand, his fingers sweating from gripping it.